


Mmm Whatcha Say

by TheMightyChipmunk



Series: Jason Derulo Titles (Because Why Not?) [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Fluff, M/M, Phone Sex, Probably Definitely OOC, Sex Hotline AU, Spanking, pining!jolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a sex line, right? So what are the chances of Enjolras ever running into his incredibly sexy sex line worker? Pretty low, right? ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mmm Whatcha Say

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the story of Grantaire and Enjolras' relationship behind what's happening in my previous Courferre fic. You don't necessarily HAVE to read that before this, but it might help a little? Either way, this took me way longer to write than I thought it would and it really got away with me, to be honest. But I hope you guys like it and thanks so much for reading!! (Also, once again, I owe the title to Jason Derulo. It is from his version of Whatcha Say).
> 
> DISCLAIMER: i have no idea how sex hotlines work.

“Enjolras, are you really reading that again?” Feuilly asked, amusement evident in his voice. Enjolras looked up in surprise, not having heard his roommate wake up in the first place, even though he knew Feuilly left for his job on Friday late. “You’ve read it about… ten thousand times?”

“It’s my favorite.” Enjolras grumbled, clutching his copy off The Miserable Mill

“You’re not doing anything tonight?” Feuilly asked as he sat cross-legged on the couch across , from Enjolras, eating a giant bowl of Cocoa Puffs, despite it being one in the morning. Enjolras shook his head and stared at the cereal, feeling his stomach churn. For the life of him he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten.

“No, Combeferre is still out of town at his mom’s and Joly is with his neighbor who apparently contracted some kind of sickness and needs him to heal him. But I’m pretty sure they're just doing it.” Enjolras sighed, fighting a yawn. Feuilly smiled fondly at him and shook his head.

“‘Atta boy.” Feuilly muttered, “It’s about time the kid got laid. And hasn’t he been talking about Bossuet for weeks now?”

“Just about.” Enjolras responded. Feuilly just nodded before setting his giant bowl down on the coffee table and jumping up to grab his bag.

“Okay, well I gotta run or I’ll be late. See you tomorrow, Enj.” Feuilly said as he rushed out the door, ruffling Enjolras’ curls affectionately before he left. The second he was out the door Enjolras snatched up his bowl and began to dig in with fervor.

“Oh my God, this is so good.” Enjolras moaned, shovelling the food into his mouth before he took a second to realize he probably looked like a crazy person, cheeks puffed out with Puffs and milk dripping from his mouth. “I really need to start eating more regularly.” he muttered petulantly. “And I should probably stop talking to myself.” He set the bowl down, his growling stomach appeased, and turned around to find something to do. Suddenly he wasn’t tired at all, his fingers tapping restlessly against the armrest of Feuilly’s barcalounger, his body suddenly tense. He huffed and grabbed his phone, planning on checking his e-mails or maybe calling Combeferre and talking to him until he wore himself out. That’s usually what he did; Combeferre was very soothing.

But something else caught Enjolras’ eye; an e-mail he’d opened a while ago, one from that woman down at the Student Resources Center. Per request, she had sent him a bunch of links to organizations that would help support the Sexual Awareness Week that he and a couple friends had arranged. Most of them were extremely helpful, but for some reason he distinctly remembered there being a number for a sex hotline in there, which he had never worked out the exact reason for it being included, but was there nonetheless. He eyed the e-mail warily for a moment, like it knew what he was thinking and was judging him…

But fuck the e-mail. Enjolras was allowed to explore his sexuality. Having an active sex life was nothing to be ashamed of and obviously enough people called this hotline to keep it in business. It was a legitimate outlet and Enjolras should not be so superior as to see himself above it. This is the thought process that got him all the way through clicking the e-mail, finding the number, and dialing it into his phone before he froze like a coward.

“This is dumb, Enjolras.” he whispered to himself as his finger hovered over the green call button, “You’re very eloquent. This will be easy. And they’re just people. You love people ... well, you love the people, but - Oh my God, stop talking to yourself.” He pressed the icon resolutely and immediately was flooded again with anxiety as he listened to the ringing.

“Hello, thank you for calling Eros Hotline. May I ask who I’m speaking to?” A voice spoke. For a moment Enjolras was too stunned to respond; it was a good voice. Definitely a good voice.

Okay, it was a downright sultry voice and Enjolras can honestly say he never would have thought that there would come a time in his life where he would actually encounter something defined as sultry. But that day had come.

“Um, Enjolras.” He muttered.

“What was that?”

“Enjolras. You can call me Enjolras.” He said, this time with a little more clarity.

“Alright, Enjolras,” Oh and that was just sinful that goddamn voice saying his name like he was purring it; fuck, “You can call me R.”

“Okay… R.”

“Hey, there you go,” R praised with a laugh, “You’re a natural at this. Now, what can I do for you tonight, sir?” Enjolras sat up a little straighter.

“You called me sir.” He said, smiling a little.

“Oh, is that not how you identify?” R asked, bravado a little lessened.

“No! I’m a man, yes… Yes, it’s just I usually have to … correct people. I come off a little feminine sometimes, especially on the phone. It’s not that I mind the mistake; there’s nothing wrong with femininity.”

“Of course not.”

“I just… It gets tiring correcting people of my gender. And gender is an important thing for some people. It’s importance is often over-looked in modern day society and it is vital not to perpetuate that… over-looking.”

“Yes, um yes it is. So… Would you prefer a female operator? I can transfer you if-”

“NO!” Enjolras cut in, far too eagerly in retrospect, “Um, you’ll do fine.” He said with a little more nonchalance, but it still made R laugh.

“Well, your enthusiasm is encouraging. Now, what would you like to do to me, Enjolras?” R said, and if it wasn’t for the ice-bucket-of-water-in-the-face effect of the actual words, the way he said it would have made Enjolras whimper. But it seemed too cliche but also too real and it caught Enjolras off-guard. Now that this vague idea was very promptly becoming reality, Enjolras was reminded of why he had no one in his real life currently to turn to: he had zero sexual experience.

“Umm… uhh, I don’t know? That’s a weird question to ask.” He managed to sputter out, all normal semblance of eloquence suddenly gone. R was obviously trying his best not to laugh on the other side of the line.

“You do know you called a sex line, right? That’s actually a pretty common question.” The man deadpanned, making Enjolras blush and thankful no one was around to see it (he was always a really bright blusher; like his whole body got pink; it was not cute), “Sorry, that was rude. Okay, so what would you like me to do to you then?” R asked, a little hesitant, as if he didn’t want to make Enjolras nervous or push too far. Enjolras took a moment to think about it.

“How about… you take me out on a date first.” He responded confidently. R barked out a laugh before covering it up with a cough.

“Are you serious?” he asked. Enjolras relaxed a little, smiling unconsciously now at the fact that R had dropped the whole sex voice routine. It made the whole situation feel a whole lot less cheesy. And the amusement clear in R’s voice was ridiculously endearing.

“Completely. It will make more sense if we build our way up to the sex. So, come on, R. Where do you take someone on a first date? Wow me.” R hummed contemplatively and Enjolras felt the full extent of the silence, suddenly realizing that he was Enjolras-ing this up, as Joly would say.

“Wait, people don’t do this kind of thing on here, do they?” Enjolras asked, very self-conscious, which led to him speaking very quickly and if possible, even more incoherently. “I mean, this isn’t really the purpose of the line, is it? I’m sorry, I’m fucking it up, we can do something else-”

“Enjolras,” R interrupted soothingly, “the purpose of the line is for me to provide you with a service, one that will leave you...satisfied. You don’t have to feel self-conscious about your sexual preferences. They are yours and yours alone, and I am most certainly not going to judge you for anything we do on this line.”

Enjolras felt immensely flattered and impressed by the sentiment behind R’s speech. He’d given similar speeches regarding sexual education and identity, and it was nice to know that this guy agreed with him on this issue.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Good. Now I believe we were talking about first date ideas….Say what you will, maybe even call me pretentious, but I’d probably take you dancing.” He said after a long moment and believe it or not, it must have been the sugar from the cocoa puffs earlier, Enjolras giggled.

“Dancing?” he parroted, incredulous.

“Yes, dancing.”

“Why?”

“Because I happen to be an obnoxiously good dancer. Dance and sex are among my few talents. But that’s not the only reason,” he said and Enjolras could practically hear the grin in his voice as he kept going, “It would give me an excuse to hold you close to me, to feel the flex of your muscles, the rapid beat of your heart, the heat of your breath.”

Enjolras giggled again, and shook himself. He could be an adult about this. He was speaking with a professional, the least he could do was offer R the same courtesy.

“Does that make you nervous?” R laughed, seduction-voice very much turned back on. “Thinking about me so close to you? Thinking about my hands on your hips, moving you just where I want you? Thinking about me getting to watch you move, getting to get your breathing just a little uneven? In front of total strangers? Me watching you and thinking about how much I want to bend you over the nearest flat surface, audience or no?”

Enjolras put a hand over his mouth, shaking his head for a moment before remembering that that’s not how phones work.

“Well, yeah, that all sounds pleasant in theory,” he began, “but, uh, I can’t dance.”

“I could teach you,” R purred once more, and Enjolras almost let the imaginary evening take this road.

“I’m sorry, but I’m too terrible of a dancer for any version of this scenario to end in sex. How about...a movie?”

“Oh God, are we thirteen years old?”

“Shut up and go with it. Besides, movie dates are classic. You can’t go wrong with it… Aren’t you supposed to be the professional here, R?” Enjolras said, voice dripping with condescension.

“You’re right, my apologies, Angel,” R responded with just a bit too much earnestness to be sincere. “What movie did you want to see tonight?”

“Nothing scary,” Enjolras said immediately, “I don’t like scary movies.”

“You do know we’re not actually going to see this movie - nevermind. How about we rent something? Annie? Or will that be too much for you? Those orphans can be a little rough around the edges.”

“Joke’s on you, I’ve seen Annie twice. I only cried once, and it was not out of fear.”

“So Annie it is,” R smiled. “You know, if we were watching a movie together I doubt I’d be able to pay attention at all. Not with you sitting next to me.”

“Are you trying to make this about sex again? R, we’re watching Annie. This is our first date. Keep it in your pants, please.”

“Hmmm, well, if that’s what you really want.”

“So…” Enjolras searched his mind for some way to move this scenario forward without sex all because he thought it would be funny to try and play coy. He hadn’t expected R to be so compliant.

“So…” R echoed, “you look very handsome tonight.”

“How would you know?” Enjolras asked skeptically. R huffed as if Enjolras was being extremely difficult.

“You sound very handsome then. Am I wrong?”

“I’m inclined to say you’re right…”

“Well, then, can you let me do my job?”

Enjolras nodded quietly before once again remembering that that’s not how phones work and adding on a quick, “Yes.”

R began again, “You look very handsome tonight. And I can tell you for certain that I look absolutely stunning this evening. It’s a shame we’re not going to end up having sex...isn’t it?”

Enjolras smiled. “Yeah, I guess it is…”

“But you’re holding firm, you are unseducable. It’s really quite a pickle we’ve got here. Well, if we’re not going to have sex tonight, can I at least ask you one tiny little favor?”

“I suppose.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“You want to hold my hand?”

“You wanted to watch Annie.”

“Point taken.”

“And besides, it’s not my fault you decided to look so good tonight...it’s all I can do not to put my hands all over you. All I’m asking for is just a hand though...unless you say you want more?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. he could do this. This was the reason he called this line. But God, he couldn’t stop fucking with this guy.

“You can hold my hand, I guess. Awwww, look, R, Annie’s finally found a home.”

“Hmmm, looks like the movie’s over, huh?” R asked innocently. “I guess I should go then... right, Angel?”

“I want you to stay,” Enjolras said quietly.

“But, Enjolras, whatever for? You were quite clear before that I was to, and I quote, ‘keep it in my pants.’”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, “Fine, you’ve seduced me. You’ve seduced me with your incredibly sensual hand-holding. Please, please, R, take it out of your pants.” R laughed loudly and Enjolras felt his stomach drop. It was weird to like the laugh of a man you’ve never met so much.

“Sorry, Enjolras. I have to go… But, I have good news because on our third date, after I’ve charmed you so much on our first and second one and thus convinced you to go dancing with me, that’s when we’d have sex. I’d take you back to my place, saying it’s for coffee but we both know that’s bullshit. I just wanna get you out of those clothes-”

“Which probably wouldn’t be easy,” Enjolras volunteered a little unsteadily, “I have a tendency to wear skinny jeans on dates. Emphasis on the skinny.” R laughed slightly.

“Really? That’s cute. Hmm, well I don’t think I’d have the patience to work you out them then, not after watching you all night. The second we get through the door, I’d be all over you, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself; all I’d want is to take you apart, Enjolras.” Enjolras whimpered a little as he felt himself growing hard, imagining walking into R’s apartment, probably laughing and a bit unsteady on his feet. R would hold the door open for him and Enjolras would step in first and stand, waiting for R to turn on the lights, but he doesn’t. Instead, Enjolras hears the door shut and feels a hand grab his waist, R’s lips going straight to Enjolras’ neck. It should’ve been difficult, considering he had no idea what R even looked like or what his apartment looked like,but somehow it was working.

“Fuck, R.” Enjolras murmured.

“Hmm, I like the sound of that, Enjolras, you being vocal for me. And you would be, wouldn’t you? Because it would just feel so good and you just couldn’t stop yourself. You’d make all kinds of noises as I push you against my door, kissing you and touching you everywhere, my hands under your shirt and my lips sucking up and down your neck. Would you be loud, Enj?” Enjolras bit his lip and nodded, pressing his hand down to his rapidly hardening erection.

“Yes, R.” He moaned and R hummed appreciatively.

“God, that’s beautiful. You do that and I can’t help but push you harder against the wall. I’d want to touch you, get you completely naked and kiss and lick every inch of you until you’re begging for release… but like you said, that would be too hard. So instead I keep kissing you, teasing your nipples and tangling my hand in your hair as I shift my thigh to rest between yours, pressing against your hardness. You are hard, right Enj?” Oh, and Enjolras hated that, the way he said his name like he knew exactly what he was doing. It made Enjolras’ cock twitch and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lip to stop the obscene moan that he knew R expected.

“Enjolras?” R asked inquisitively, “Talk to me, Enj, let me hear what you’re thinking.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, but was struck with something like shyness, and only his quickened breathing came over the line. This was ridiculous, R wasn’t even here, why was Enjolras getting this flustered?

“Enjolras?” R asked again, a touch more concern in his voice now.

“Would I be touching you?” Enjolras asked quickly, gasping a little at the end as he finally put a hand to his cock.

“You’d try to,” R answered nonchalantly, smugly, before getting slowly more intense again, “But I wouldn’t let you. No, I’d take both of your hands in one of mine and pin them to the door behind you so all you could feel against you was me, so I could feel you squirm. Feel your breath hitch as I tug your shirt off and bite along your collar bone. It wouldn’t take long at all for you to be rutting against my leg would it, Enjolras?” He tried to answer, he really did, but his throat just wasn’t working for him, the traitorous bastard. Instead he just let out some mix between a moan and a whimper that really did nothing for his dignity, but it made R chuckle which made a rush of heat run through Enjolras and push him to the precipice of orgasm as his hand worked furiously over himself, so he supposed it was worth it.

“Please, fuck R, I’m… I’m so close, please.” Again, R laughed and fuck they should bottle that sound up and sell it, they would make a fortune. Who knew a laugh could be so goddamn sensual?

“Are you really?” he asked, voice dipping to a whisper, “Well, I wasn’t sure before but I am now. You really are a dirty fucking whore, Enjolras.” And that was it. Enjolras DID NOT scream as he came (he totally did, oh God, he totally did) and then relaxed back into the cushions, revelling in that perfect buzz and boneless feeling that always came after orgasm.

“Wow.” Enjolras breathed after a long moment and Grantaire laughed softly. Enjolras sat up a little in his chair. “You know, it’s probably unprofessional to laugh at your customers as much as you do.” Enjolras teased.

“You didn’t seem to be complaining. and you’re probably right, I’m sorry. You’re just… really fucking cute, Angel.” R added smugly. Enjolras grunted and rolled his eyes but he really couldn’t argue. His obnoxiously slutty orgasm sort of spoke for itself. They both got quiet for a long moment. Enjolras knew, logically, that this was the part where he should hang up, stop taking up R’s time literally not saying anything, but… he didn’t want to hang up. He was always cuddly and sort of sentimental after sex and, well, he liked this guy, weird as that may sound. So, he took a deep breath and said, “Do I have to hang up now?”

###

“Is there something else I can do for you?” Grantaire asked. He tried to sound professional but, damn, he was so hoping Enjolras would want to stay on the line because if he didn’t, Grantaire was going to excuse himself for a break and go desperately jerk off in the bathroom while thinking of this stupid asshole moaning his name. Well, his nickname, but it’s the same effect. And not that he didn’t want to relieve himself of his very uncomfortable erection, because believe you me, he did, but… God, it was so unprofessional. What would Eponine say if she knew?

And it was also on principle. Grantaire had maintained a record, before this. Not once in the whole seven months he had been working there had he ever gotten hard getting off a customer. NOT. ONCE. Then this stupid fucking adorably naive asshole comes along and whimpers in that intoxicating tenor voice with his stupid fake dates and his amazing breathy laugh and Grantaire’s record is suddenly fucked. (Just like the imaginary-Enjolras in his mind is, heyo! … no. Fuck. Inappropriate! Ugh!).

“Um, I don’t know … Am I allowed to just… talk to you? I’m always sort of talkative after sex… Or I guess… does that count as sex? Yes, I’m counting it as sex. It was too good of an orgasm to not be categorized as sex.” Enjolras decided. Grantaire bit his lip to stop another laugh; this guy was just too fucking cute.

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Grantaire asked out-of-the-blue. Enjolras hesitated for a moment.

“Why do you ask?” He seemed slightly apprehensive, but also slightly amused, which R took as a good sign.

“I’m trying to put a picture to the voice. You don’t have to tell me all of it just… an age bracket would help.”

“Oh, well, I’m twenty-five. And you?”

“Uh-uh-uh, Enj, sorry. That is private information and it would be wrong for me to share it with my client.” Grantaire said, smiling widely. Enjolras scoffed.

“Ew, please do not call me your client. That makes this feel like a doctor’s appointment or something and doctors have always creeped me out. Even if my best friend is one.” Grantaire hummed in consideration.

“Twenty-five and already a doctor?”

“He’s a little older than me, but our families have been friends forever, so when we both rebelled against them we did it together.”

“There is safety in numbers.”

“That’s how I’ve always seen it.” Enjolras said, but then after a moment of consideration added, “Then again, that is a very Hobbesian ideal and by principle I never agree with anything Hobbes has to say.” Grantaire chuckled and sat back in his chair, slightly impressed.

“Really? I’ve always been partial to Hobbes. I mean, it’s hard to deny that fact that humanity is first and foremost selfish, intrinsically self-servient.” Enjolras made a particularly indignant noise that was somewhere on the spectrum of spluttering.

“You can’t really believe that.”

“... I think I do.” Grantaire stated hesitantly. It was obvious he was treading on thin ice. If he wanted this guy to still like him he should probably shut the fuck up and pretend to agree with whatever he said but … this was way more fun.

“HOW? WHY? No, R … I … that’s, well … ugh, I can’t even come up with an argument against that, it’s so fundamentally wrong. How can you honestly believe that?”

“Well it isn’t difficult; just look at the state of, well everything.” Grantaire reasoned.

“Yes, there’s bad things going on in the world, but … that doesn’t define us as an entity. A bunch of people who shouldn’t have been in charge in the first place fucked up, but that doesn’t change the beauty that you can see in any human being, the small little things that make up a life, a day. That’s beautiful, R, that’s what proves humanity is good. That we can see that horror and evil everyday and still carry on, still push towards a better future.” Grantaire felt himself smiling despite himself at Enjolras’ speech; it was idealistic and way way off, but heartfelt and eloquent. He should probably compliment it.

“Oh God. Your favorite philosopher is Rousseau isn’t it?” Grantaire said instead. Enjolras just coughed a little and stayed quiet. “Ohhhh my God it is! Ohhh my God! I should have known, Enjolras. Oh man, this is good. Oh man. I bet you’ve even read Emelie, right? Like, for pleasure. And fuck, The Social Contract is probably your Bible. Oh man, this is good shit.”

“What the fuck, R.” Enjolras muttered after a long moment of contemplative silence.

“What?” Grantaire asked, slightly scared.

“And you were doing so fucking well! We talk, have a few laughs, you give me an orgasm, it was great! I liked you! And now you go saying shit like this, diminishing my entire system of beliefs and at the same time diminishing literally the entire human race! I mean, really, way to make me feel like nothing but a cheap piece of ass-”

“You called me!”

“I mean you can’t value me very much if you can so easily dismiss my entire system of belief. It’s starting to seem like you don’t value anything, to be honest. And if I am not mistaken, you are supposed to be the professional here, and as punishment for your misgivings I am hanging up. Right now.”

“Oh,come on-” R began, only to be cut off by the cruel ringing of a dial tone. “The bastard did it.”

###

Enjolras held his phone in his hand, staring down at it for a solid minute before accepting that he had in fact just hung up on R. He had just hung up. On R. The really funny, sexy, smart guy that just made his night ten times better.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself as he mulled over how mortifying it would be if he called back right now. Obviously he realized that was a ridiculous proposal and eventually threw the phone on the couch opposite him in an petulant fit. “Fuck me and my roughly adequate ability to respect basic social norms.”

He would have to wait at least three days before calling back and he hoped to God that when he did R wouldn’t make fun of him. For some reason Enjolras lost all sense of eloquence when it came to the man. Adding on teasing makes that much harder and fuck all Enjolras wanted to do was impress him … Oh God, this wasn’t good. Did he have a crush on the sex hotline guy?

Ridiculous.

He didn’t even know if he would get him the next time he called. Can you request people? Is that a thing? Do they have like, regulars? Enjolras wouldn’t mind being R’s regular. Actually, he would prefer being R’s everything, to be honest. But that train of thought was ridiculous and even too idealistic for Enjolras to allow himself, so instead he huffed in annoyance and got up to change into clean pajamas before returning back to the chair and curling up to sleep.

###

“Grantaire?” Eponine said, startling Grantaire out of his nap, which he had drifted off into when he realized the night was going to be relatively slow. Which was totally not something he did a lot … Okay, he did it all the time, but whatever.

“What’s up?” R slurred in response as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Luckily Ep didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow in disapproval.

“You have someone requesting you? They’re on line two if you wanna take it. Some guy name Eduardo or something.” Eponine explained with a shake of her head. Grantaire immediately sat up straighter.

“Enjolras, you mean?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Should I tell him to fuck off?” Eponine asked, probably confused by Grantaire’s current expression of utter shock.

“Huh? No! No, just um… leave him on hold for a sec. I’ll take the call though, no worries.” He probably sounded over nonchalant, but Eponine just shrugged her shoulder and went back to her desk. Grantaire took a moment to get his thoughts in order before grabbing the phone and sitting back in his chair dramatically.

“So let’s get one thing straight, I value a lot of things. I value a good wine, I value the few close friendships I manage to keep, I value the beauty of an orgasm, whether being the one to give or receive, I value art and beauty, I value those who can do anything above basic math because God knows I cannot, and I value the Classics. So, in my opinion you made just as much of a detrimental snap judgement as I did, when I dismissed your beliefs for eschewed idealism. Which I apologize for, in retrospect, you’re right. It wasn’t professional of me. Nonetheless, I believe you as well behaved with less tact and maturity than even I, and that’s saying something because honest-to-God, no one that I know would use the word ‘mature’ to describe me. So, the egg is on your face there, son.

“And it was never my intention to belittle or diminish your beliefs. I simply disagree with them. Maybe, instead of getting defensive and petulant when faced with opposition, you could capitalize on the opportunity to improve your own defense, or maybe even broaden your horizons, strengthen your disposition. Just maybe.” Grantaire stopped talking for a moment, to take his breath and to briefly worry that maybe the wrong guy had been transferred and he just bitched out the entirely wrong person. But for some reason, his confidence came flooding in, newly renewed, right as Enjolras cleared his throat to respond.

“So, since this time we don’t have to go on a date first, since in our hypothetical reality we are dating currently, it would be completely within the realm of possibility that I just walk into your apartment, strip you naked, and fuck you into the mattress, right?” Now he’s sure this is definitely Enjolras, if that adorable whine is anything to go by.

“No foreplay?” Enjolras managed to breathe out and Grantaire smiled, smug, because he could tell, Enjolras had already started touching himself. Fuck, that was hot.

“I didn’t think a slut like you would need it. Was I wrong?” Grantaire asked, all bravado and smugness. It was fun to do this with Enjolras, not only because he was somehow attracted to his voice and his mannerisms in general, but because he didn’t often get to play dominant in these phone calls, which was probably best because it was a little too close to his actual sex life. But with Enjolras, Grantaire didn’t mind so much.

“No.” Enjolras laughed.

“No, no, you wanna go slower, that’s fine. How about we make it a little less of a fantasy? Tell me where you are, Enj.”

“Umm… in my apartment?”

“Okay, you gotta give me a little more to work with here, Angel. Are you in bed?”

“Don’t call me that. And no, I’m sitting on the barcalounger in my living room and I’m currently in only flannel pajama pants, but it’s sort of cold so I put on an old afghan that a friend of mine left over here a while ago. Is that good enough for you?” Grantaire couldn’t help it this time, he laughed, making Enjolras laugh a little too. “What? What is so funny?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire found himself wishing he could see the smile that he could hear so well in his words.

“Nothing, nothing…” Grantaire assured once his laughter simmered down.

“What? Is that not sexy enough?” Enjolras asked with an actual to God giggle, “Would you rather I tell you I’m in a dimly-lit room, spread out on a heart shaped bed covered only in red and black silk sheets?” Grantaire laughed, even as he felt heat rush through him at the thought.

“No… well, yes, that would be interesting, but it’s just… an afghan? A barcalounger? That’s really fucking cute, Enjolras. You sound like you could be describing a little old lady and the fact that you are actually a twenty-five year old man is just amazing. Amazing.” Grantaire admitted, making Enjolras laugh once more, softly. “Anyway, back to the situation at hand, so you’re in a chair? Hm, I guess I’d have to ride you then.”

“That would be the most ergonomically correct way to go about this.” Enjolras added, breathless once again.

“Hmm, yeah, but I also bet you would just love to watch me get myself ready for you, wouldn’t you? You’d just love to watch me bend over and open myself up, nice and slow, get myself ready to take your cock. You would get so hard, just from watching me, but I wouldn’t let you touch yourself, because I want this to last. I wanna be able to fuck myself on you for as long as I can. Because, fuck, it would be so good, Enj, your cock stretching me out, making me moan. The first slide in would be the hardest, for both of us. Hard for you because the second you slip inside me, my hole squeezing you tight, it would be practically impossible not to come. It would be even worse looking up at me above you, my legs shaking and not to brag or anything, but I’ve been told I have a great sex face.” Enjolras chuckled and then groaned. Well, it was more like a chuckle found its way in between all the groans and whimpers because he seriously had not stopped whining and moaning the entire time. It was extremely distracting.

“That’s a rare gift.” Enjolras choked out and Grantaire growled.

“Well, obviously I’m not doing my job well if you’re still capable of words. I want you to close your eyes, Enjolras, close your eyes and imagine I’m there with you. I want you to feel me moving over your hard cock, feel my lips moving over your neck, down your chest. That’s what I’m doing, Enjolras. God help me, all I can do is imagine having you beneath me. It would feel so good to know it’s because of me, my hands that you’re making those fucking noises. Do you know what those noises do to me, Angel?”

“They… they’re all be-because of you, R.” Enjolras stuttered and fuck it all, Grantaire almost came when the bastard said his name.

“Then come for me, Enj, come on. Now.” Enjolras came with a strangled shout, making Grantaire lean his head down against the desk, hard, trying to distract himself.

“Hoooly fuck.” Enjolras whispered after a long moment of silence, in which Grantaire contemplated the possibility of sexual frustration causing death.

“Yeah, holy fuck.” Grantaire agreed with a chuckle after he felt like he wasn’t boiling over on the inside. Enjolras laughed a little awkwardly.

“So, this is probably where people hang up, isn’t it?” Grantaire smiled and nodded, then felt stupid.

“Yeah, it usually is. But to be honest, I don’t really know what to expect with you.” Enjolras again, fucking giggled, that’s the only word to describe it. “So if you don’t wanna hang up, I would be happy to talk again, Enjolras.”

“Okay, let’s talk.”

###

“Morning Feuilly.” Enjolras yawned, shuffling out of bed the next morning.

“Morning? Enjolras, it’s two in the afternoon.” Feuilly said with a laugh. He was sitting on the couch, watching TV and Enjolras plopped down next to him.

“Fuck, sorry. I guess I was tired.” He bit the inside of his thumb as he found himself staring at the barcalounger across from them, memories of his talk with R last night flashing through his mind and making him fight back a grin. They’d talked for hours; Enjolras hadn’t gotten to bed until about three a.m., when R said his shift had ended. He probably monopolized way too much of the man’s time, especially when he was supposed to be working, but he couldn’t really find it in him to care.

“Enjolras?” Feuilly yelled, snapping Enjolras out of his thoughts.

“What? Fuck sorry, I zoned out.”

“I was just asking if you’re still going to dinner with ‘Ferre tonight.” Feuilly asked, speaking his words slowly. Enjolras nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I am. We’re going to hang out in his new place too, afterwards. I haven’t been there much since we moved him in.” Enjolras explained before going back to momentarily staring at the chair.

“Damn, Enjolras, what is up with you? You’ve been weird these past couple of days.” Feuilly raised one eyebrow at him and Enjolras groaned. He couldn’t lie to Feuilly. He respected him way too much for that.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Especially not Joly. God, he’ll never let me live it down”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I think I’ve … met someone.” Enjolras didn’t know if that counted; he technically hadn’t met him in person yet, but...

“Really? Fuck, Enjolras! That’s great! Where’d you meet him?” Feuilly asked, looking actually legitimately happy for him and Enjolras groaned.

“He’s my sex hotline worker.” He groaned from behind his hands. He could hear as Feuilly took a deep breath, as if to say something, but was still quiet a long moment later. Enjolras took his hands off of his face to see what his friend was thinking. Feuilly looked to be adamantly trying not to laugh.

“Oh, God, I’m perverted, I know!”

“No!” Feuilly said, smiling again, “I was just a little shocked… It’s perfectly okay to call a sex line, that’s completely your prerogative… It’s just a little… cliche for you.” Feuilly shrugged his shoulder as if to brush it off. “But, have you talked to him about it?” Enjolras shook his head.

“It’s probably a fool’s dream anyway. He’s paid to talk to people this way, right? He’s paid to get people to think he wants them. I’m probably just being stupid.” Enjolras picked at the thread of the couch in front of him petulantly.

“Well, I wish I could tell you that isn’t true, but… is there any reason to think you might be different?” He asked, not rudely, but as if he was actually searching for something. Enjolras blushed and nodded a little.

“We… maybe stayed up talking until really early in the morning. Like, four in the morning, I think? Maybe three.” Enjolras shrugged as if it was nothing but Feuilly nudged him in the shoulder.

“Well, fuck you should have opened with that! No one would do that for just another client. He obviously likes you. Talk to him!”

“What if he’s offended? Or grossed out?”

“Then you hang up the phone. It’s the perfect escape route and you never ever have to see him again.” Feuilly reasoned. It was sound logic. “Come on, Enj. You rarely like someone. He’s obviously special, no matter his job. I say you give it a chance.” Enjolras looked up at his friend and nodded, smiling wide at the possibility of R reciprocating his ridiculous feelings. Feuilly smiled back and Enjolras curled up into his side, not fighting his body when it started to drift back off to sleep.

###

Grantaire had been just putting the finishing touches on one of his commissions when he heard it. The song on his iPod (that he wore whenever his neighbor Courfeyrac decided to have the world’s loudest sex) had just changed so he could hear the faint sounds of raised voices outside of his door. He grabbed the closest thing he could find as protection, a dictionary that had been lying on his kitchen table for about one hundred years, and swung the door open wide.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s with all the yelling?” Grantaire asked, fully aware that his voice sounded like his throat was coated with gravel. Spending all those hours last night talking with Enjolras and then singing at the top of his lungs as he painted had really burned out his voice. He needed to get Jehan to make him some tea.

But that moment wasn’t that right time to be thinking about tea, because holy shit, the yelling man in his hallway was beautiful. He was also staring daggers at Grantaire, daggers of beauty and righteous fury that cut Grantaire to the very soul. He also seemed to think that if he stared hard enough Grantaire would melt or disappear or something, because he hadn’t said anything in the very long time that Grantaire had been standing out there.

Wait… was he… staring at him? Oh. My. God. This guy was checking him out, fucking Pheobus Apollo, was staring at his chest.

Finally, Courfeyrac spoke up and said, “Hey, Grantaire. This guy was just, um, yelling at me for being a loud prick.” Courfeyrac explained. Apollo groaned at the statement.

“Way to diminish every point I made… Prick.” Grantaire barked out a laugh at that. Apollo was funny.

“It was a pretty impressive speech… did you prepare that?” Courfeyrac asked. Apollo just shrugged, somehow still managing to look confident when he was obviously out-teamed here.

“No. I just said what I was feeling… How did you not hear him?” Apollo asked Grantaire, suddenly sounding really annoyed, like Grantaire had personally offended him by his inability to be a more proactive building tenant. “You live right next to him.” Grantaire just shrugged.

“I was listening to music. Sooo, can I hear it? The speech? The one you yelled at Courf?” Grantaire asked, very much enjoying the scowl he got in response.

“It doesn’t work like that.” Apollo snapped. Damn, he had anger to spare. He was probably great in bed… but wait. Why did that sound familiar? That blend of petulance and indignation...

“I guess I’ll just have to find a way to piss you off, get my own personalized rant.” Grantaire mused as he mentally went over where the fuck he’d heard that voice before… Oh.

Enjolras. It was Enjolras. APOLLO was Enjolras. Enjolras was Apollo. Holy fuck, he was standing in front of Enjolras. However, he didn’t realize it until said Enjolras/Apollo had already stormed off (giving Grantaire a ridiculously nice view of his ass).

“I wasn’t kidding, Apollo!” Grantaire called after him, pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning against in an attempt at casual, his brain making words mostly on default, “I will get you to scream my name! In whatever context!” (Irony.)

“Holy fuck.” Grantaire whispered to himself, once Enjolras was well out of earshot. Had he recognized him? Did he know, too? If so he must have really pissed him off, for him to not say anything… maybe he had been too embarrassed? Maybe he hadn’t noticed? … No, he had to. Grantaire was one of the most oblivious people in the world, and even he was able to pinpoint the voice that he had spent most of his time listening to and/or thinking about for the past few days. Well, he would talk to him about it the next time Enjolras called. Which he now really really hoped would be soon.

###

“Enjolras.” R answered, sounding smug for some reason. It probably had something to do with him calling three times within the span of one week. He had tried to wait before he called the third time, but he couldn’t stop thinking about him and after about two days it got too much to bear and he just had to call, to hear R’s voice.

“R.” Enjolras responded, biting his lip to stop the stupid grin that wanted to spread across his face already. Because he so wasn’t used to this, this whole ‘having an irrational crush on someone’. Usually he was more focused on the parts of his life he deemed more important, but honestly, even in the short amount of time he’d been talking to him, Enjolras didn’t see what he felt for R as unimportant. He was… more than that. He couldn’t say exactly how or wow, it was all very confusing, but undeniable.

“So, do you have anything to say to me?” R asked. It was obvious in his tone that he was expecting something specific; it wasn’t just a filler question. Enjolras racked his brain, thought back to their conversation the other night, trying to remember if there was something he was supposed to research or apologize for? They had argued then, of course, but it was all friendly and they’d stopped talking on a positive note, so… what?

“Um, is this a sex question that’s going over my head? Or am I missing something here?” Grantaire didn’t respond for a long moment.

“There’s really nothing?” R asked again, this time his voice changed a little, got lower and scratchier and it sent a chill up Enjolras’ spine.

“I can’t think of anything.” Enjolras breathed. Again, R was quiet before giving a little hum of understanding that somehow seemed… disappointed?. “Is something wro-”

“How would you feel about me tying you up? If I was with you right now?” R cut him off, making Enjolras gasp a little at the change in conversation.

“I’d be ok with that.” Enjolras whispered, earning another hum of approval from R, as he moved to tug down his sweatpants and pull out his already hard cock, which seemed to have already developed a Pavlovian response to R’s voice when it gets demanding like that.

“I knew you’d be kinky, slut. That’s good. I’d need you tied down, because I really want to spank you. I’ll bet you want that to.” Enjolras groaned loudly because fuck he really did want that, considering they had barely started and he was already working his hand furiously up and down his cock. “That would be perfect, Enj, having you tied up, at my mercy. I could tie your hands to the headboard, with you lying on your stomach and then tilt your hips up so your ass is on display for me and you have nothing touching your poor hard cock. You’re not touching yourself now, are you?” His question made Enjolras stop abruptly and make a questioning noise. “If you are, you better fucking stop.” He growled.

“What? R-”

“Quiet.” R snapped, and even in his confusion Enjolras’ mouth closed with a click of his teeth. Enjolras had no idea what was happening, why R seemed mad, but he sort of liked it. “Are you alone? Don’t talk, just hum if you are.” Enjolras hummed loudly. Feuilly had left for his shift a couple of hours before Enjolras made the decision to call, so he would be gone for awhile. “Good. Put me on speaker and lay back with your hands crossed above your head. Only speak if you have something against that.” He swallowed loudly as he complied, pulling the lever to lay the barcalounger out all the way and then crossed his arms as instructed. If possible the position somehow made him harder and holy fuck he wished R was really there.

“Good. Now, don’t you dare move until I tell you to. Close your eyes and imagine I’m there, hovering over you, holding your wrists together. I’m straddling you, so close to touching you, but still not. Our only point of contact is my hand on your wrist, keeping you right where I want you.” Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut and could almost imagine it, could practically feel R above him, the ghost of his words surrounding him with a warmth that was almost tangible. Enjolras groaned at the thought, the noise trailing off into whimpers as he fought the instinct to reach down and touch himself.

“Fuck, Angel, you’re such a slut. I can take away your voice and you still manage to beg me. Alright, since I can tell you want it so bad,” And God, Enjolras hated it but the barely-there patronizing in his voice was the hottest thing he had heard in years, “I would press myself down, grinding our hips together just enough for you to feel it, not enough to bring relief. And then I wouldn’t be able to help myself anymore, Angel, not with you all splayed out for my taking, whining like a bitch in heat, I’d have to kiss you.” That drew another moan because dumb as it sounds, over the past few days Enjolras had thought of R in a lot of sexual situations, but for some reason that hadn’t extended to something as simple and intimate as kissing, but the thought was exquisite. And it made him unbearably hard.

“R, please, please.” He begged, forgetting himself in his rush of lust. It wasn’t until R didn’t respond for a long moment that Enjolras remembered he was supposed to be quiet. He wanted to groan in annoyance with his stupid mistake, but something told him he should be as quiet as he could. He could just barely hear R breathing on the other side of the line, deep breaths as if to calm himself, and Enjolras had no idea why he was afraid, but he was. Which was ridiculous, because he could just hang up. Say fuck all and bring himself off as quickly and efficiently as possible, maybe go find someone tangible to fuck. But no, for some reason that option felt ludicrous.

“I told you not to talk, Angel.” Enjolras whimpered in response and squirmed. His eyes were still squeezed tight as he desperately imagined R was in the room with him, moments away from touching him.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He didn’t speak above a whisper but the command was overt. Enjolras did, albeit slowly. He had no idea why-

“How many do you think someone would deserve for that, Angel? Disobeying a direct command?” R asked, sounding genuinely contemplative. Enjolras took a moment to try and decipher what he meant. “I give you permission to speak.” He added after Enjolras remained quiet.

“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked in a scratchy voice, even though as the words came out he knew exactly what R meant.

“Well, Angel,” R said, his voice thick with amusement, “I’m not there with you, unfortunately, so you’re going to have to execute your punishment yourself. I’m thinking… ten? At first I thought fifteen, but with the added dose of humiliation, I’m guessing it’s pretty much even.” He chuckled softly, making Enjolras stomach do flip-flops. His arms suddenly felt really weak, like holding himself up was the hardest thing to do.

“So I just…” Enjolras asked after a long stretch of silence. His voice was shaking and he hated it … but he also didn’t. And that was the weirdest part for him, that he knew full-well he could hang up. He was completely within his rights to say that he didn’t want to be treated this way and that R had no power to make him humiliate himself.

But fuck, it was hot.

“Ten please, Angel. And make it loud. I’ll only count the ones I can hear.” R explained. Enjolras groaned as he fell forwards, unable to just balance on one arm. His ass was raised obscenely and he knew he must have painted the sluttiest picture.

Enjolras raised his hand, bringing it down hard. It was awkward positioning, but it still stung, causing Enjolras to let out a small squeak.

“Careful, Angel,” R cautioned, “Don’t make me add more.”

Enjolras took a deep breath, biting his lip to keep quiet. He raised his hand up again, trying with all his might to imagine R was there with him. That R was behind him, making sure he would do as he was told. But he knew R wasn’t there, didn’t need to be there, because Enjolras was doing this to himself, setting a slow rhythm to the staticky counting coming through his phone.

He brought his hand down for four, five, six. Shit, his ass was already on fire. He faltered on his rhythm, but tried to make up for it with a little extra force. He bit down on his lip harder, his arm shaking from trying to hold him up in his precarious position on the chair. Enjolras closed his eyes and brought his hand down again, again, again.

“Fuck, that’s ten. That’s ten, right R? I’m done? Please.” Enjolras begged, making R laugh.

“That’s ten, Angel.” Enjolras huffed at the repeated nickname; he was completely out of it, yes, but he still (sort of) hated the endearment. “You can stop, now. Aw, you must be so hard, aren’t you? I’ll bet you wanna come so bad, dontcha, Enjy.”

“Please, I’ve been good, R, please.” Grantaire sighed loudly and dramatically at Enjolras’ words.

“Alright. But don’t touch yourself. I want you to slowly grind your desperate little cock against that chair beneath you until you come screaming my name.” And that’s exactly what Enjolras did. It didn’t take long, either.

Once he’d come, he flipped around, laying out on his back and stretching his sore muscles. His mind was swimming, a little foggy with bliss around the edges and his only coherent thought was that he needed to hear R’s voice again, so he grabbed his phone and held it up to his ear, taking it off speaker.

“Well,” Enjolras whispered, his voice notably more airy than he’d ever noticed before, “That was something.”

“Yeah. You liked it?”

“Completely. You were definitely more… demanding than usual. How did you know I would go for that?”

“I’m not sure. I guess, you sort of hinted at being submissive before and then when I got so …”

“When you got so what?” Enjolras asked after R didn’t finish his sentence.

“Nothing. I just thought I should mix things up tonight, and it paid off, woo. So how are you feeling?” R was obviously trying to change the subject and lucky for him, Enjolras wasn’t in the right state of mind to object to that.

“A little spacey, to be honest.” Enjolras said. He was still smiling lazily and he had literally no idea why, but R’s soft laugh only made it a more comfortable grin.

“That’s not uncommon… Do want me to talk you through it? Or should we hang up?”

“No! No, talking is good.” Enjolras answered, a little too emphatically. “I don’t have any other plans for the night.”

“Well, good. So… Enjolras. What’s up with you?” R asked, sounding hesitant.

“Wow, for someone who is so good at talking me to orgasm, you aren’t great with the small talk.” Enjolras teased.

“No, not exactly. Plus this is a little awkward, right? I mean, what’s the boundaries on pillow talk when we aren’t actually sharing a pillow?” Enjolras laughed and shook his head.

“You’re ridiculous. How about you just ask me if I have any plans for this weekend.”

“Okay, easy enough. Any plans for this weekend, Angel?” Enjolras groaned.

“Stop calling me that. And I think I’m visiting my older sister this weekend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s my niece’s birthday, so I have to suffer a trip to the suburbs, but it’ll be worth it. I hardly ever see them, so…” Enjolras felt a pang of guilt thinking about his sister. They had been pretty close growing up, but Everly was six years older than him and had been long gone at college when Enjolras had his falling out with his parents.

“Oh, I know how that goes. I have a younger sister. If I see her once a month it’s too much and not enough at the same time, you know? Well, anyway, we should both probably get going.” R sounded a little disappointed, but it was late. Enjolras really couldn’t afford to stay up all night again. Combeferre and Joly had worked hard to get him on a steady sleeping cycle.

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Before we hang up, though, um… I should tell you…” R was a quiet for a moment, but Enjolras didn’t interrupt, having a sudden creeping dread about whatever R was about to say, “Should I give you my schedule? I mean, tell me if I’m wrong, but midnight and one in the morning probably aren’t the most convenient times for you.” Enjolras sighed in relief and smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” He’d probably like that a little too much, but he’d deal with that… eventually. Maybe.

###

Grantaire had almost told Enjolras. He really had. Like honestly, he was one word away from telling him the truth… but he couldn’t. After that night that he’d sort of lashed out at the man, slightly offended that he hadn’t recognized him as Grantaire had, and, well, he thought he was too late. Which was probably stupid since he doubted there were rules on the promptness of telling your phone-sex client that you know what they look like.

Because that’s all Grantaire was to Enjolras, a phone-sex worker. There was no way the man thought of him as anything else… What did he think would happen if he told him the truth anyway? That Enjolras would be excited? Declare his love and demand that the two of them buy an apartment overlooking Central Park together? No. Enjolras was way too good for him and it was easier like this. Grantaire liked having Enjolras as a client and he didn’t want to ruin that. He got paid to unravel a golden god. Who could ask for more?

(Grantaire. Grantaire could ask for more. He just wouldn’t.)

He had given Enjolras his schedule (his newly minimized schedule; the one he had adjusted so that he would have more time for his art, which somehow was getting more popular. He actually had a reputation in the art community. And it wasn’t bad…), but the man hadn’t called yet. Then again, it had only been three days since he had called last and he said he was busy that weekend… so he was being ridiculous.

That was what he was kept repeating to himself as he walked out of his apartment Tuesday morning to find a place to sketch, pulling a navy beanie over his curls and immediately bumping into Combeferre. Grantaire nodded to him once in greeting and then, noticing his pissed off expression also heard Courfeyrac’s obnoxious moaning. He looked to the door and rolled his eyes, trying to show the guy that he didn’t support Courf’s childish attempts at courtship. For some reason, this made the guy’s shoulders straighten as he walked towards Courf. Grantaire stood back in confusion, watching as the man knocked resolutely on Courf’s door. He turned around once and smiled at what was probably a really dumb look on Grantaire’s face. He really didn’t think Combeferre would give into Courfeyrac’s antics. He didn’t know the man well, but he seemed to be better than -

“Hey Courf, it’s just your neighbor reminding you to take your daily dose of azithromycin, and make sure to tell me if that doesn’t work and I’ll get you that prescription for ceftriaxone, no problem.” Combeferre began walking away, a smug look on his features, until he saw Grantaire’s face furrowed in confusion. Then he stopped and turned back to Courf, “You know. For the gonorrhea.” He stage whispered. Grantaire had to bite his tongue not to crack up laughing because shit that was good. The man draped upon Courf’s back immediately freaked out, running back inside with a horrified look that made it clear Courf had lost this round.

Grantaire followed an intensely smug Combeferre down the stairs and out of the building, singing his praises all the way, once they were out of Courf’s earshot.

“Holy shit! That was amazing! Damn, Combeferre! Did you see that guy’s face?” Grantaire managed to snort out between fits of laughter. “Oh, I like you.”

“So where are you headed?” Combeferre asked when the two of them started walking together, catching Grantaire a little off-guard.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure. I was just gonna try to find somewhere to sketch, just to get out of the house for a little while.”

“Oh, you draw?” Combeferre asked politely.

“Yeah, I’m an artist. That’s my job, somehow.” One of his jobs at least.

“You can stick with me. I was just going to go hang out at my friend’s house and he has a killer view. Might be something worth replicating artistically. Not that I have any artistic incli-”

“Which friend?” Grantaire knew he had zero cool, but whatever.

“Um, his name is Enjolras.” Combeferre replied, obvious aware that something was off, but also too polite to say anything about it.

“I could go with you. That’s sounds alright.” Grantaire answered with a shrug, mentally slow-clapping his feigned nonchalance. Really, he could earn an Oscar with this acting.

The walk to Enjolras’ was a little too long for Grantaire’s liking. Despite conversation with Combeferre flowing easily, it still left too much time for Grantaire to freak himself the fuck out. He talked himself out of this whole endeavor about five times, saying this was too weird and that he would inevitably end up saying something that would give him away and that he should just make up some excuse and get out of there. But that didn’t happen of course, because Combeferre distracted him with conversation about Guillermo del Toro movies and then before he’d noticed they were in the lobby of a pretty damn nice apartment building.

It shouldn’t have come as a shock, that Enjolras was loaded. It made sense, since the man was able to pay for a several hour long conversation with a sex-hotline and then keep coming back like every night.

“Nice building.” Grantaire said as he and Combeferre were walking up the stairs to Enjolras’ floor. Combeferre nodded and smiled over his shoulder at Grantaire. (Damn, it was easy to see why Courfeyrac was being all weird about him. That smile made Grantaire feel all weird too.)

“Yeah, well, Enjolras isn’t exactly short on funds, that’s why he does a lot of pro-bono work. Also, he shares the place with a close friend of ours, Feuilly. But he probably won’t be in. He works a lot, admirably.” Combeferre explained, finishing right as they finally made it to what Grantaire assumed was Enjolras’ apartment. He stared at the dark red door, thinking somehow that even this small snippet of Enjolras’ life was more than he should be privy to. He felt suddenly like he was taking all of this knowledge without permission. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know all of this about Enjolras, where he lived, who he was friends with… but it felt like cheating, learning it all while Enjolras still thought the two of them were equally in the dark about each other. It left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And yet it was too late to do anything about it, though, as Enjolras then swung the door of his apartment door open with a wide smile. It was brief, dropping as soon as he noticed Grantaire, but it was breathtaking nonetheless and Grantaire thought there was nothing he wouldn’t do to just once know he made his Apollo smile like that.

“Combeferre,” Enjolras said, almost sounding like he was pouting, “You brought someone.” Enjolras was staring at Grantaire disapprovingly, despite addressing his words to Combeferre and it was very unsettling.

“Yes, I did, Enjolras,” Combeferre responded slowly, “Are you going to invite us in?” Enjolras moved to the side in silent acquisition, letting the two of them walk in and yet still not taking his scrutinizing gaze off of R.

“You brought Grantaire.” Combeferre laughed softly at Enjolras as he took off his coat.

“Yes I did, and it’s crazy to hear, I know, but he is a sentient being and can speak for himself.”

“It’s true. I promise.” Grantaire added after a moment of deliberation. He didn’t know how to speak. Wait, that sounds bad. He knew how to speak, he just couldn’t decide how to speak. He didn’t know if he should try to change his voice, so that Enjolras would have less of a chance of recognizing him. He was pretty sure the only reason he hadn't recognized him before was because his voice was all scratchy from the cigarette and the singing at the top of his lungs thing. And Enjolras was pretty peeved about the whole Courfeyrac thing, so that could have distracted him too… anyway, if the man wasn’t completely oblivious then he stood a fair chance of putting two and two together. But Grantaire couldn’t come up with a normal way to change his voice on the spot, so he was just going to have to live with the risk.

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Enjolras said, finally speaking to Grantaire, “Why are you here?”

“Combeferre invited me,” Grantaire said after a long moment of being entranced by Enjolras’ eyes, “He said you have a nice view and that I could sketch it.”

“He’s an artist. It’s his job.” Combeferre added when Enjolras still looked skeptical. Apollo looked over to his friend and it only took one raised eyebrow from Combeferre to get Enjolras to back off. He sighed in acceptance and pointed down a hall.

“The living room is down there. I’ll show you.” Grantaire followed him (trying very hard not to stare at his ass in those stupid sweatpants… how does an ass even look good in sweatpants? That makes literally zero sense). When they made it to the living room, Grantaire couldn’t help stopping in his tracks for a moment. It was stupid, but…

“What?” Enjolras asked, snapping Grantaire out of his thoughts. He looked up at Apollo quickly and shook his head.

“Nothing sorry.” He definitely was not staring at the completely inconsequential barcalounger in his living room, because he definitely had no idea that a few days ago Enjolras had got himself off humping that cushion at the command of Grantaire himself. Nope. That was not what he was thinking about. “So this is the view.” He added with something akin to awe. It really was great. Grantaire always loved the city, the tall buildings, the bustling people, the never-ending flow of cars. It never got boring.

“So you guys can just ignore me. I know I’m intruding.” Grantaire said as he pulled a chair up to the windowsill and grabbed his sketch pad and some charcoal out of his bag.

“Oh, you’re not intruding.” Combeferre said, and Grantaire could see him pushing Enjolras slightly out of the corner of his eye. He had to bite his lip not to laugh. “Is he, Enj?”

“No, of course not.” Enjolras said after a while, sounding more defeated than sarcastic. As Grantaire started sketching the basic outline of the view in front of him, he knew he should be quiet. It was obviously best for his cover, and for Enjolras’ temperament, if he kept quiet. But he also knew that if he kept quiet he would start thinking about what Enjolras has done on that barcalounger that he is most definitely not staring at out of the corner of his eye and that would be bad.

“I think it’s probably a good thing that I’m here, actually.” Grantaire added nonchalantly. He could practically hear Enjolras tense from behind him, where he was sitting with Combeferre in the living room.

“How do you reason that?” Enjolras asked in an exhausted tone that made Grantaire want to smirk.

“Well, you obviously have trouble cooperating with people you don’t particularly like. Maybe my presence will help you cope with that. It’s an important life skill you know.”

“Oh, is it? Please, Grantaire, tell me more about what I need to know to achieve adulthood. You’re obviously qualified.” He deadpanned, eyeing Grantaire’s paint-stained jeans and general less-than-impressive exterior.

“Says the man at home in sweatpants on a Tuesday afternoon.” Grantaire volleyed, reveling in Enjolras’ responding scoff but not looking anywhere but out the window and down at his page.

“I’m a journalist. I work from home.” Enjolras snapped. That made Grantaire actually look up and over at his petulant Apollo.

“What do you write about?” Grantaire asked, shooting for something resembling politeness. Enjolras sat back against the cushions and rolled his eyes.

“Nothing you’d be interested in.” Enjolras grumbled, earning another slap from Combeferre.

“Oh, well, you’re probably right. You know me, the only literature I subscribe to is Highlights.” Grantaire deadpanned. He heard Combeferre laugh but Enjolras seemed to be fighting back a smile covering it with a sigh instead.

“I’m a political journalist.”

“Oh.” Grantaire said, “That’s… admirable.” Enjolras looked surprised, sitting up a little straighter and raising an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I may not see your reasoning in making the choice to become one. Politics is a maddening enterprise and embarking about changing that through writing about it seems… futile. But I respect that you try. It’s more than I’m capable of.” Grantaire reasoned with a self-deprecating shrug (how a shrug can be self-deprecating, he didn’t know. But R managed it).

“You think it’s futile?” Enjolras asked, sounding reluctantly intrigued. Grantaire smiled softly. This Enjolras sounded a lot more like the one he talked to at nights.

“Unfortunately. You don’t?” Enjolras shook his head emphatically. “Well, maybe one day you’ll change my mind.” His stomach felt all flippy-floppy under Enjolras’ scrutinizing gaze, but he managed to not avert his eyes until Enjolras smiled just a little before turning to Combeferre and talking about something or other. Grantaire took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that he’d stopped breathing before.

He turned back to his sketchbook, because the view really was worthwhile, and let Combeferre and Enjolras’ conversation fade to background noise. He went on like that for awhile until he had satisfactorily finished the scene in front of him. After that he turned back around to the living room and saw the two men still in deep conversation. Grantaire smiled at the obvious ease between the two men, bringing up memories of him and Bahorel and Eponine and Bossuet. He was happy Enjolras had good friends like that, stupid as it sounds. Not quite ready to join their conversation and leave behind the peaceful haze of losing himself in his art, Grantaire flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and took to sketching the men. They were both leaning towards each other slightly, but Enjolras was sitting crisscross on the couch, gesturing emphatically with his arms every once and a while, and Combeferre sitting on the edge of the cushion, one leg crossed over the other, ankle resting on his knee. Grantaire tried his best to capture the comfort between the two, the fondness that was evident even while they argued, and he was quite pleased with his result. So much so that when he was finished he stood up and stretched happily before showing himself to the kitchen.

“You fellas hungry?” he called out, opening the fridge and pulling out ingredients to make poulet basquaise.Some might say it was a bit strange to be cooking something like that in a complete stranger’s home (although, was stranger the right word?), but Grantaire was a risk-taker.

“No-” he heard Enjolras begin to shout back off-handedly only to be cut off by Combeferre.

“Yes, thank you so much.”

Grantaire chuckled as he lit the stove and checked the cupboards for pots and pans. He started humming softly to himself, quieting himself every once and a while when he heard Enjolras,or far more rarely Combeferre, raise his voice. He went along like that in a state of humming, eavesdropping, cooking, and working himself into a guilt-ridden frenzy over this intrusion into Enjolras’ life only to remind himself that nothing he could possibly do in this pointless universe could have any lasting significance, until his mind went on auto-pilot, and he looked up to see Enjolras leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Shit, I didn’t even see you there,” Grantaire said, stirring one of the pots he had going and turning off the heat on another. “How long have you been standing there? Oh, did you need something in here?”

###

“Oh, no,” Enjolras answered, standing up straight and moving to sit on one of his barstools, “it just actually smelled really good in here.”

“Oh,” Grantaire brushed a bit of hair back behind his ear almost shyly, “um...thanks? Thanks. I’ll clean all of this up, don’t worry.” He said, gesturing to the practically nonexistent mess around him.

Grantaire began tossing the contents of the pan in front of him, and Enjolras caught himself watching Grantaire’s muscles flex as he did so. What was with Enjolras lately? Since when did he notice things like that about people? Let alone people he didn’t even really know. Enjolras wouldn’t say that he disliked Grantaire, but there was definitely something about him that irked Enjolras; there was something about him that seemed out of place, but Enjolras just couldn’t place it.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Enjolras asked,still a bit astounded that this smell was having such a potent effect on him. He so often just forgot to eat, and resorted to frozen foods for the health and safety of everyone in his building that he had almost forgotten what a home-cooked meal smelt like.

“My mom. She was really into French foods. French everything, actually.” Grantaire responded, “Where are your bowls?”

“Top shelf on the right.”

As Grantaire reached up for the bowls, his t-shirt rode up a bit, allowing Enjolras another glimpse at his stomach and Enjolras refused to look because fuck that was cliche, but also… Grantaire had a nice stomach and damn it, where was all this sexual energy coming from recently? Maybe it was just because the first time he had seen Grantaire he hadn’t had a shirt on. Because, let’s be honest, Enjolras hadn’t really had a strong sex drive before, but he wasn’t blind. And Grantaire’s chest had been...distracting.

“So you and Combeferre are pretty close, huh?” Grantaire said after a moment.

“Yeah, we are,” Enjolras said, “he’s my oldest friend. If I’m being honest, he’s probably my only real friend. Well, Feuilly counts too.”

“What are you talking about?” Grantaire asked incredulously while he grabbed a ladle from off the counter, “You’re beautiful, intelligent, charismatic, and you have by far the nicest apartment I have ever seen.You have to have more than two friends.”

Enjolras groaned, suddenly concerned that he was coming off as whiny and self-indulgent.

“Well, yes, I have people that I talk to, people that I love, and people who I can truly say are the best I know, but I don’t know that they would specifically categorize me as a friend.To them, I might be more of a leader, or maybe a crazy zealot. But I’ve known Combeferre since I was a kid. We’ve put in the time.He knows me, and I feel like I know him. I haven’t known Feuilly quite as long, but it’s the same with him. We see each other as equals, and I think that’s the most important thing in a friendship.”

Enjolras stopped talking, aware that he had perhaps spoken while still in Combeferre-mode. Combeferre had this effect on Enjolras, letting him take his looping train of thought as far as he wanted. Grantaire just ladled out the food, only glancing at Enjolras out of the corner of his eye, although not quite managing subtlety.

“Something tells me you’re wrong.” Grantaire said, with a level of sincerity that Enjolras couldn’t really comprehend; it kept them both silent for a long moment. “What about your roommate? Feuilly, right?” He asked with a small smile. Enjolras barked out a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure my roommate thinks I’m stalking him.” Enjolras admitted. Grantaire raised one eyebrow at him inquisitively but then shook his head and laughed a little.

“Well that’s not so bad. It’s actually how me and Eponine became friends.”

“What?” Enjolras asked, surprised at Grantaire’s lack of reaction. It wasn’t what he expected. Not that so far Grantaire had done anything Enjolras could have predicted.

“Eponine, one of my closest friends, before we were friends she thought I was stalking her,” Grantaire explained as he handed a bowl to Enjolras and began walking to the dining room table. “We used to live pretty close to each other, in high school, and every morning I used to see her walking her little brother home from school. They weren’t the richest kids; I knew they had a pretty messed up home life and it showed, but they still always looked really happy to be together, you know? It warmed my cynical teenage-angst-filled heart. And so, I decided to use them as the subject for one of my photography classes, one of the only classes I cared about senior year. And eventually Eponine started noticing that the creepy kid down the block kept popping up places with a camera. So, being the deviant that she is, she broke into my house to look for incriminating evidence, and let me tell you, having someone find multiple pictures of them and their baby brother in some kids black room is not fun. It looks real bad.”

“So you were stalking her?” Enjolras asked, with a reluctant smile. Grantaire talked with his hands. It was quite distracting.

“... A little. Yes. Technically. But only by definition. There was no malicious intent involved.” Grantaire explained, making Enjolras laugh. When Grantaire smiled wider Enjolras couldn’t quite tell if it was the story or Enjolras that caused it. He unwittingly felt butterflies flutter in his stomach.

“Hey guys, sorry. I had to take that.” Combeferre said, cutting off whatever Enjolras had opened his mouth to say, because honestly Enjolras only knew that he wanted to keep talking. Both he and Grantaire looked to Combeferre with wide eyes, making his friend squint in confusion as he sat down.

“Did I interrupt something?” he asked with a small grin that Enjolras had come to know meant Combeferre knew something he didn’t.

“No, no, of course not. We were just talking about how Grantaire is a stalker.” Enjolras explained. Grantaire scoffed and mock glared at Enjolras. He then regaled the story to Combeferre, who in response told the story of Enjolras’ semi-crush on Feuilly which spurred a number of stories from each of them and honestly the night went really well. Enjolras hadn’t laughed that much since college and it felt really good. He was still in a good mood, smiling from ear to ear when Grantaire left, saying he had to go to work, waving goodbye to Enjolras and looking extremely self-satisfied.

“That went well.” Enjolras said with only a small amount of incredulity.

“It did go really well.” Combeferre said, shrugging on his coat as he walked towards the door. “And you’re still smiling you know.” He added smugly, slamming the door shut behind him, jarring Enjolras out of his thoughts.

Enjolras stared at the spot Combeferre had been for a long minute. He shook himself, as he stood in his now empty apartment, running his hands over his face.He was still smiling.

Enjolras moved idly to the kitchen, which, true to his word, Grantaire had insisted on cleaning up himself. It still smelled heavenly, and he seriously considered reheating the leftovers from lunch for dinner.

So he was smiling, what was so wrong about that? Enjolras smiled, that was a thing he did. Maybe it wasn’t the thing he was known for doing, but it had been known to happen on one or two occasions. So why did Combeferre feel the need to bring it up? Why make a point of it? It had been a nice day. Enjolras leaned over the counter. It had been a nice day,much better than he thought it would be at the outstart. Grantaire had been...surprising. He was thoughtful, and funny, and talented. Enjolras hadn’t said anything, but he had caught a glimpse of the sketch Grantaire had been doing of Combeferre and himself. It was very impressive, although Enjolras felt like Grantaire had captured Combeferre better than himself. Enjolras thought Grantaire had made him look a bit too perfect, exaggerating his good features. Why did that make Enjolras blush?

Enjolras stood up straight,suddenly realizing that he had another crush. On Grantaire. Well that certainly explained all the staring on Enjolras’ part. And at one point in the evening, Enjolras dimly recalled giggling.That only ever happened for one reason, when alcohol isn’t involved.

“Shit,” he murmured, moving over to the barcalounger. The second he sat down his, mind began drifting back to his first encounter with Grantaire. The one where Grantaire had been bare-chested with a streak of green paint on his jawline and the curve of his hip. The encounter where yet again Enjolras was staring at Grantaire. Normally Enjolras prided himself on his eloquence, but more and more it was seeming like that part of his life did not extend to guys he had crushes on, especially if R was anything to go by…

R. Enjolras already had a crush on R. How had Enjolras forgotten about R? Was he allowed to have two simultaneous crushes? This had never been an issue for Enjolras before. What was the protocol? Could he still call R? He definitely wanted to. A lot. Good orgasms were hard to come by, and apparently they were something Enjolras was taking a vested interest in nowadays. But...would that make Enjolras a slut? Not that Enjolras condoned that kind of thought, or that kind of derogatory term, but seriously, he was in the dark about all of this. His relationship with R was so ill-defined. Or, perhaps more accurately, it was very clearly defined as that of a sex-line worker and client, and Enjolras just wanted it to be more than it was or ever could be... But, he sometimes felt like maybe it was more than that, but he couldn’t presume to know how R felt, After all, he was paying him for a service. So it should be fine if he called again, right? So why did the idea feel a bit wrong now?

He sighed, finally settling (a solid twenty five minutes later) on not calling R. Was it out of some misplaced feeling of guilt over his maybe-feelings for Grantaire? Yes. Was that healthy? Probably not. Should he even be doing any of this? Enjolras was too tired to figure that out tonight.

###

Grantaire fancied himself an artist and he took that title relatively seriously. He covers all bases of artistry; he can paint, draw, play three instruments (guitar, violin, and harmonica), write decent poetry, cook, and he can sew. That last talent is something that Eponine has no qualms with taking complete advantage of, so four days before Halloween when Gavroche did not yet have a costume, Grantaire was forced to sew. Well, not forced. He was happy to help Gav, but sewing meant fabric stores and fabric stores meant old women who had a penchant for arguing about price and quantity and texture.

Not fun.

So safe to say he was not expecting to see a certain Apollo browsing the fabric section of JoAnn’s. Grantaire did a semi-double-take when he saw him, considering the option of turning around and just not saying anything. Because the thing was, Enjolras hadn’t called in approximately twenty-two days. Not that he was counting.

He tried not to be personally offended. It was possible that Enjolras just got bored of engaging in frequent sex with a non-corporeal being. Maybe he couldn’t afford it anymore. Maybe he found someone better to spend his nights with (Grantaire didn’t like that option. Hated it actually. It made his stomach all heavy). Maybe Enjolras realized he was in love with Grantaire and couldn’t continue the ruse with R (that was his favorite, albeit the most impossible). He was stopped from fleeing the store in a moment of intense cowardice, when Enjolras turned his head and noticed him, smiling a little and raising one hand in a wave. Grantaire steeled his nerves and walked towards him.

“Hey, Grantaire.”

“Enjolras.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Um, I’m making a costume for a friend’s little brother. I am commonly known among my friends as a sewing savant, so, I get roped into these things pretty often.” Grantaire explained, trying to quell the butterflies that were caused by the stupid endeared smile that Grantaire didn’t understand at all.

“Hmm, I may employ your help then. I’m trying to come up with a costume too. Although I am not as talented in the craft as you apparently are.” Grantaire laughed and looked down at his shoes. Stupid cute bastard.

“What do you think you’re going to be?” Grantaire asked after a moment, gesturing to the dark red fabric currently in Enjolras’ hands.

“Oh! I was vague, sorry. It actually isn’t for me. It’s supposed to be for my niece, because I have a small bit more artistic talent than she does.” Grantaire’s face must have done something suspicious because Enjolras raised a finger in an accusatory point. “That does not mean I actually have talent. Just more than her. You are not allowed to make me do anything resembling drawing.” Grantaire laughed and shook his head.

“Are you sure? We could probably find a paint-by-number somewhere here…” Grantaire craned his neck to look around the store and Enjolras laughed and pushed him gently on the shoulder.

“Shut up.” He muttered, blushing a little, and oh, Grantaire knows that move. Grantaire had done that before. He knows exactly what that was. Enjolras was… flirting with him?

“So what were you thinking for the costume?”

“I was thinking Little Red Riding Hood? Because they have this big giant Newfoundland which I figured could ironically be the wolf, and a red hood would be the only aspect I would actually have to make. She can wear whatever she wants under it. And how hard can a hood be?” Grantaire nodded.

“That sounds good. Maybe just a black dress underneath, if you want my opinion. I think that could work. And a wicker basket. She needs one of those too.” Enjolras hummed in agreement.

“Good point. I’ll see if they have one.”

“I can help you look, if you… want?” Grantaire offered, wanting to prolong their time together as much as he could. Enjolras smiled and looked about to say yes when Grantaire’s phone went off. He grabbed it quickly, immediately hung up on whoever had been calling, and swore under his breath when he saw the time.

“Shit, fuck. Actually,” Grantaire said reluctantly, “I have to be at work in twenty minutes and I still have to pick up my order from the front desk, so I’ve gotta jet.” Enjolras actually looked disappointed and Grantaire refused to cave to the hope that flared from that.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I’m sure I can manage.” Enjolras smiled and nodded and Grantaire went to leave. He tried, he really did, and then he turned around at the last second.

“But I would like to help you with that, if you’d like that… Um maybe I could come over tomorrow? And then maybe we could grab a coffee after… or something?” Grantaire asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet the whole time as he marvelled at his bravery. Enjolras looked slightly surprised but nodded anyway.

“I would like that.” Enjolras smiled and Grantaire breathed a sigh of relief. He walked backwards, immediately running into a cart about to turn into the aisle. It a mess of awkward apologies and waves goodbye after that and Grantaire knew he was a blushing mess as he walked out of the store, but it was worth it. Definitely worth it. Because fucking hell he had a date with Enjolras.

Fucking hell he had a date with Enjolras.

###

“Eros Hotline, how may I help you this evening?” a woman’s voice answered. Enjolras swallowed once and then built up the nerve to respond.

“Um, can I speak to R?”

“... Is this by any chance Enjolras?” the woman asked, sounding more than slightly amused.

“Um, yes?” the woman just hummed in affirmation. “Um, so is R in?” He needed to stop saying um so much. Why is it so hard for him to talk on the phone? He was always entirely charming in person.

“Yes. He just got here though, running a little late, so I’ll transfer you, but you’ll be on hold.”

“That’s fine.” Enjolras breathed, his fingers clenching and releasing the afghan in his hands.

“Okay, that will just be a moment, then. Have a good evening sir, and thank you for calling The Art House.” Enjolras took a deep breath as the hold music played and tried to get a grip on himself. He had gone three weeks since calling R, and it was stupid, so so stupid, but the only reason he was calling him back tonight was because of Grantaire and their… date (fuck, it had been a while since he had been this excited about calling something a date, dumb enough). He felt he needed to say goodbye, give a reason to why he just abruptly stopped calling. Feuilly said it was closure. All he needed was closure and then he wouldn’t feel this stupid guilt about his date with Grantaire.

“Enjolras?” R’s voice broke through Enjolras’ thoughts, “Fancy hearing from you again.” And that was weird. Enjolras sat up straighter in his chair because all of a sudden there was something not right. There was something he was missing.

“Enjolras? You there?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I am. Are you sick?” Enjolras asked, words coming out a little too fast.

“What? No, I’m not sick… why?”

“Nothing… nothing, you’re voice just sounds a little off.” Enjolras shook his head and forgot the thought, attributing it simply to the length of time since he had last called, “Anyway, um I know it’s been awhile since I last called and-”

“Yeah, what was that about? You got tired of me?” R teased and Enjolras instinctively rolled his eyes.

“Of course not. You’re great. It’s just… there was someone else, and… I felt like me calling again wasn’t fair to either of you guys. Which is probably ridiculous, but-”

“And now there isn’t another guy? So you’re calling back?” R asked, sounding almost hurt. Enjolras stuttered, trying to formulate a response because he hated hurting people he liked.

“No! There still is someone-”

“Tell me about him.” R cut in.

“Tell you about him?” Enjolras asked incredulously.

“Yeah, what’s he like? Why do you like him? How did you meet? Oh! Were you callling other sex hotlines behind my back?”

“What?! No! No, R, I really don’t think that matters right now-”

“At least give me a name.”

“Grantaire. There are you happy?” Enjolras said after a long moment, “Now, if you are quite done being weirdly invasive, I will proceed in telling you that I’m calling today to apologize and to say … goodbye. And again, I probably sound ridiculous, but it has been well-acknowledged that I need closure because, well, a crush on someone you have never met is silly and something that I shouldn’t foster, so…”

“Closure.” R parroted and Enjolras nodded and then said yes because obviously nods won’t do the job over the phone. You think he would have learned that by now. “So you can move on from liking me to liking this new and completely separate-from-me human man.”

“Um, yes? That’s a weird as fuck way to word it, but-”

“Well, lucky for you, I know just how to get you that.”

“Huh?”

“Break-up sex. One last round as a jolly farewell.” R answered definitively, catching Enjolras off-guard. He didn’t sound sad at all. He sounded smug and fuck all, Enjolras wanted him to be sad. Well, that was mean; he didn’t want to cause R any undue pain... but the bastard should feel something! Enjolras knew he wasn’t the only one emotionally invested in their... tryst. Would a little remorse be too much to ask?

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea-”

“Of course it is. Break-up sex has been the functional end to a relationship, or quasi-relationship as we have here, for years. I would venture to say centuries even, maybe even millenias.”

“Millenias might be a bit ambitious.” Enjolras managed to choke out through his shock.

“Well, I am an ambitious man. So, what say you Apollo? Wanna give it one last go?”

“What did you just call me?” Enjolras felt like his heart was beating thirty times faster because Apollo. That was Grantaire’s …

“Do you have a preference as for the theme for tonight? I think it should somehow involve me tangling my hands in your perfect blonde curls and tugging hard, just to see what kinds of noises you’d make. You up for that, Angel?”

“NO! No, that isn’t what you called me! You, you called me Apollo! Fuck! And how did you know I’m blonde?” Enjolras was just on the verge of panicking. Some might say he was one hundred percent panicking because he was such an idiot.

“How much French do you know, Enj?” R asked, voice soft.

“Um, my grandma taught me a little. She used to speak it to me all the time, when I was- Oh. Fuck.”

“Please don’t hate me, Angel.”

“Grantaire?”

“Enjolras-”

Enjolras hung up quickly, throwing the phone across the room and burying his head in his hands. He grabbed the afghan from the back of the chair and pulled it over his head, burying himself in the cushions of the barcalounger. The same barcalounger he had called R from. R, who he had a massive, wildly inappropriate crush on whilst paying him for sexual services. R, who had endured Enjolras’ ridiculous insistence on a first date before he would “put out,” and proceeded to prove indecently insightful into Enjolras’ sexual preferences. R, who turned out to be Grantaire,the incredibly talented artist who came to Enjolras’ apartment and cooked a meal for him. Grantaire, who Enjolras had gawked at in the hallway outside his apartment when he came out with that goddamn green paint all over him. Grantaire, who had clearly figured all this out far before Enjolras had, and had been keeping it from him.

When had Grantaire figured all of this out? Shit, how had Enjolras not figured it out? He had spent how long talking on the phone with R, claiming to have a special connection, and he didn’t recognize that voice in real life? Oh God, how fickle was Enjolras? What must Grantaire think of him?

He had asked him out. Grantaire had asked Enjolras out. He couldn’t hate him that much then, the cocooned Enjolras hoped. But there was the distinct fear that Grantaire had just been amused at the entire situation, and was trying to see how long it would take for Enjolras to realize what was going on. Enjolras groaned. Grantaire had practically had to spell it out for him. He felt so stupid, and embarrassed, and a little nauseous. He barely even knew Grantaire, he had a crush on Grantaire, they were supposed to be putting their best faces forward, trying to let each other in while still keeping some walls up. But that gets pretty hard to do when you’ve already had virtual sex multiple times, in multiple ways. When you’ve already spanked yourself for him, and then payed him for the privilege. Enjolras was going to die. The whole point of calling a sex line is to let a random stranger know your sexuality, to confide in the idea of a person, one you will never meet in your everyday life. How the fuck was this happening?

“Shit! And I hung up on him again.” He muttered to himself, quickly stumbling to pull off the afghan and get to the phone he had so intelligently tossed across the room. He clicked the button to call back and couldn’t stop hopping around on the balls of his feet as it rang.

“Thank you for calling-”

“I need to speak with R, please!” Enjolras cut her off, practically yelling. The woman chuckled.

“You get right to the point, don’t you. Well, sir, I am sorry, but R just left. Is there anyone else I can match-”

“Left? He just left? No, I was just on the phone with him!”

“Wait, this is Enjolras again?” the woman asked incredulously, “Well buddy, I am sorry to say that, yes, he’s gone-” Enjolras groaned petulantly and hung up, immediately returning to his barcalounger to curl up and pout.

“Why did he leeeeave?” Enjolras moaned, startling when his phone started to ring. It was an unknown number, which usually Enjolras would ignore but this time he answered.

“Hello?” he whispered, knowing all too well who it would be.

“Enjolras! Don’t move out of that barcalounger,” Grantaire ordered, in the same tone that made Enjolras compelled to behave, “I’m coming over-” Enjolras squeaked and hung up again, then scrambled up to lock the door. Just as the lock clicked his phone rang again, making him jump. He went over to grab it, completely prepared to vehemently ignore Grantaire, but it was Feuilly instead.

“Feuilly.” He breathed after answering the call.

“Enjolras!” Feuilly greeted, “I was just on my home, wanted to let you know not to attempt to heat up frozen foods for dinner because I picked up Chinese.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, Feuilly.”

“Um, Enjolras? What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Nothing… Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re whispering,” Feuilly answered apprehensively, “Where are you?”

“Oh, you know me. I’m hiding under an afghan on the barcalounger.”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“Not important. Listen, Feuilly, when you get home, there will probably be a very attractive curly-haired man that answers to both R and Grantaire. Tell him to go home and do not let him into the apartment. Okay?”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Oh, did you get sweet and sour chicken?”

“Of course.”

“You’re the best.” Enjolras hung up and sunk back into the chair, taking a deep breath and insisting to himself that the mortification he was feeling was just him being overdramatic… Grantaire did not just ask him out because it would be a laugh. He was not doing this all to fuck with his head. Grantaire was a decent guy and they could ABSOLUTELY go back to being friends after this, just forget the whole thing ever happened…

“Enjolras! Open up!” Grantaire said, knocking on his door, “I know you’re in here.”

“No I’m not! Go away!” Enjolras yelled back which, yes, in retrospect wasn’t a good idea.

“Damn it, Enj, please talk to me!”

“No! Let me fester and die in my embarrassment alone!”

“Angel, you are being very dramatic. This isn’t like you.” Grantaire said with a laugh that Enjolras could somehow hear perfectly even through the afghan and the door. And truth is, this wasn’t like him at all. But he had never been this emotionally invested in a potential suitor before and he had also never been so embarrassed in front of one before.

“Fuck off.” Enjolras half-heartedly yelled for lack of better argument.

“You can’t stay in there forever, Apollo! Eventually you’re going to have to come out here and talk to me. Wouldn’t you rather get this over with now?”

“You’re making an incorrect assumption. I am entirely capable of living the rest of my life within these walls. I can work from home, that’s what technology is for. Combeferre will happily bring me food and Joly can see to all medical problems that may arise. Also I have Netflix.” He was too busy making his speech to notice that Feuilly had gotten home, so having his afghan pulled off came as quite the surprise.

“Damn it, Feuilly!” Enjolras shouted at his roommate, who was unloading his stuff in the kitchen. He looked up between Enjolras and the smug-looking Grantaire who was still holding the afghan.

“Pick up dry cleaning, get sweet and sour chicken… don’t let Grantaire in. Sorry, Enj.” Feuilly said before taking his food and going to his room, nodding at Grantaire along the way like they were the best of friends.

“What. Are you. Doing. Here?” Enjolras asked, punctuating each part by grabbing a pillow and hitting Grantaire repeatedly with it. “Did you come here to gloat, huh? Well go ahead. I’m excited to hear what witty jokes you’ve conjured at my expense.” Enjolras collapsed back on the barcalounger and stared up indignantly at Grantaire who simply furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Damn that was cute.

“You really think I’d come here to hurt you?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras’ heart fell and his anger vanished.

“No… Fuck, no, R, I don’t. I’m just… fuck! I am so embarrassed! I really wanted you to like me because I really like you. You’re smart and funny and, yeah, annoyingly cynical and sarcastic, but you also challenge me and you’re fucking beautiful, you know that? And now it’s like… I’m just another customer. I mean, for fuck’s sake, Grantaire, you had me spank myself for you.” Grantaire chuckled and Enjolras groaned, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle the afghan back from Grantaire.

“No, no, stop that! I’m not laughing at you… it’s just- yeah. It’s an awkward situation, sort of, if you view it like that. But whatever, Angel. I like you. A whole fucking lot and to be honest, knowing each other’s sexual preferences can only make this easier, in my opinion.” Enjolras smiled at that and finally looked up from his hands to Grantaire’s eyes. “And you’re embarrassed? Enjolras, the guy I thought liked me for Grantaire just found out I work at a sex-hotline. I’m a little, a lot, embarrassed too.” Enjolras smiled and then poked Grantiare hard on the chest.

“Hey! You lied to me. You said you were an artist! Was that a purposeful misdirection?”

“No. I am an artist… it’s just that isn’t exactly a secure business. It’s nice to have a cushion, so I can focus more on making what I want to and less on what people demand of me.” Grantaire explained with a shrug. Enjolras felt a small smile grow from his reluctant frown.

“So do you still like me?”

“Of course. Do you still like me?”

“Of course! So… we’re still on for coffee?”

“I’d like that.” Grantaire whispered with a brilliant smile. Enjolras smiled back and then scooted forward a little in the chair so that he was closer to where Grantaire was kneeling.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Grantaire smiled and pulled Enjolras in, hands curling into hair as he felt Enjolras kiss him back.

“Just to let you know,” Enjolras managed between kisses, “From here on out, I am going to be the best boyfriend. I’m going to be completely charming, disarmingly eloquent, and I swear, there will be no more hiding under afghans like I am eight years old.” Grantaire chuckled and ran his thumb across Enjolras’ bottom lip.

“Well, that sounds great. But you should know that I think any version of you is great.” Enjolras rolled his eyes but felt his cheeks warm at the sentiment.

“You’re a sap.” Enjolras mumbled, making Grantaire smile wider and take Enjolras’ hand in his own.

“So what do you say to-”

“Neither of you are doing anything sexual here.” Feuilly said, cutting Grantaire off as he walked out of his room, “Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel are coming over soon and I will not have the sounds of sex ruining the evening.”

“You know Bahorel and Bossuet?” Grantaire asked, sounding surprised. Enjolras on the other hand had never heard those names before.

“Who are they?” Enjolras asked.

“Friends of Courfeyrac, Combeferre’s new boyfriend. Text them, Enj, see if they want to come too.” Enjolras sighed and shrugged, a little bummed on missing a night with just Grantaire, but still, it was probably better than they were moving slow. Well, as slow as they could.

“Aw, don’t be like that. Courf is actually great once you get passed the slight-obnoxiousness.” Grantaire said, misinterpreting Enjolras’ disappointment, “I actually think you two will get along really well.”

“You sound like Combeferre.” Enjolras grumbled. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Courfeyrac, he just hadn’t gotten to know him and wasn’t too keen to. But Ferre really liked him, so Enjolras must have been missing something. He’d figure it out tonight.

“They said they’re coming. And they are bringing Jehan who I think is bringing Cosette who just got a new boyfriend, and they’re practically joined at the hip,so he’ll probably be here as well.. Shit, it’s gonna be quite the party here tonight.”

“If you’re in need of any alcohol I believe I can help in that department,” Grantaire offered, letting Enjolras pull him up to curl next to each other on his incredibly comfortable barcalounger.

Enjolras frowned. “Are you guys going to be drinking tonight?”

“It’s a distinct possibility,” Feuilly called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

“What, do you turn into a major asshole when you drink or something?” Grantaire teased.

“No,” Enjolras blushed, “I get...really touchy...and I have a tendency to cry over cat food commercials and wax poetic about Combeferre.”

“Apollo drunk,” Grantaire mused, “if it is anything as adorable as what you just described there is no way I’m missing it.”

“No,” Enjolras moaned, “it’s so embarrassing.”

“Angel,” Grantaire deadpanned, “have you already forgotten how we actually met?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras picked at the thread in the afghan, “But I’m good at sex. That was attractive. This is repulsive.”

“Well, you’re decent at phone sex... And honestly, Enjo, you didn't really even do much of the heavy lifting there. That was all me.” Grantaire sighed dramatically, “Anyway, you don't want to be good at it. You can only be good at phone sex if you’re average in person. Except for me of course.”

“So you don't think I’m going to be bad at real sex?” Enjolras asked warily.

“I’m saying there’s only one way to know for sure,” Grantaire dragged Enjolras up, and Enjolras, taking the lead hurried towards his bedroom.

“Hey, what did I say about that!” Feuilly shouted as Enjolras’ door slammed shut. “Fine, but I am eating your Chinese!”

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING :D I hope you all liked it!!!! XOXO


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